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BERKELEY'S NEWS • FEBRUARY 04, 2023

Ring in the New Year with our 2023 New Year's Special Issue!

Portfolio

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DFW, baggy clothes and modern aesthetics: A personal essay

But social media isn’t just the mere transmission of an image or an idea; it's curation of the self, and thus its aesthetics are wrought in a complex psycho-social cauldron.

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"A joke given by life will always be funny; therefore, those who don’t laugh at it are either too proud or too stupid."
"A joke given by life will always be funny; therefore, those who don’t laugh at it are either too proud or too stupid."
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thousands of contemporary prayers whispered and embedded into my thoughts / you plague my vision, my memory / I am all I have left of you
thousands of contemporary prayers whispered and embedded into my thoughts / you plague my vision, my memory / I am all I have left of you
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my head is exploding / and the world reverberates with static / I am an old abandoned tv that / no one remembered to switch off
my head is exploding / and the world reverberates with static / I am an old abandoned tv that / no one remembered to switch off
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Recent Content

But social media isn’t just the mere transmission of an image or an idea; it's curation of the self, and thus its aesthetics are wrought in a complex psycho-social cauldron.
featured article
But social media isn’t just the mere transmission of an image or an idea; it's curation of the self, and thus its aesthetics are wrought in a complex psycho-social cauldron.
featured article
"A joke given by life will always be funny; therefore, those who don’t laugh at it are either too proud or too stupid."
featured article
"A joke given by life will always be funny; therefore, those who don’t laugh at it are either too proud or too stupid."
featured article
thousands of contemporary prayers whispered and embedded into my thoughts / you plague my vision, my memory / I am all I have left of you
featured article
thousands of contemporary prayers whispered and embedded into my thoughts / you plague my vision, my memory / I am all I have left of you
featured article
my head is exploding / and the world reverberates with static / I am an old abandoned tv that / no one remembered to switch off
featured article
my head is exploding / and the world reverberates with static / I am an old abandoned tv that / no one remembered to switch off
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When you disappear, none of us notice until you’re gone. Turning the corner, we make a left and descend the stairs to the parking lot. It’s littered with vehicles, waste and gum on the concrete. Someone is screaming, I don’t know who. Maybe we’re all screaming all at once. 
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When you disappear, none of us notice until you’re gone. Turning the corner, we make a left and descend the stairs to the parking lot. It’s littered with vehicles, waste and gum on the concrete. Someone is screaming, I don’t know who. Maybe we’re all screaming all at once. 
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The rain will stop in two hours — and when it stops, the city will wake up to a sunny sky, clueless about the wet melancholy of the night.
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The rain will stop in two hours — and when it stops, the city will wake up to a sunny sky, clueless about the wet melancholy of the night.
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I’d been joking for some time that my Berkeley goggles were in the mail, but the truth of the matter was that after four months of school, I still hadn’t acclimated to the general populous who gravitated towards the Holy Trifecta of Hinge, Bumble and Tinder in Alameda County.
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I’d been joking for some time that my Berkeley goggles were in the mail, but the truth of the matter was that after four months of school, I still hadn’t acclimated to the general populous who gravitated towards the Holy Trifecta of Hinge, Bumble and Tinder in Alameda County.
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Gray. The color of the fog and mist over the water, clouding my view of everything I have ever known. I fear that one day I will forget. I don’t want to forget.
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Gray. The color of the fog and mist over the water, clouding my view of everything I have ever known. I fear that one day I will forget. I don’t want to forget.
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this is the fire that poets speak about / that romantics write about, singers sing about, artists paint about, bohemians explore / the fire, the burn that I feel for you.
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this is the fire that poets speak about / that romantics write about, singers sing about, artists paint about, bohemians explore / the fire, the burn that I feel for you.
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Her life is a psychedelic movie /But I’m watching it sober / Let it be over / I clearly can’t do main character.
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Her life is a psychedelic movie /But I’m watching it sober / Let it be over / I clearly can’t do main character.
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